A Paradise On Earth Read online

  But her beauty was more than the sum of its charming parts. It had a fragile quality that was like music. He wanted to look at her forever, like a worshipper.

  She gave him a shy, tentative smile and he gazed back, lost in wonderment.

  “Good morning,” she said in a soft, urgent voice.

  “Good morning,” he said slowly. He was trying to collect his thoughts, but they remained scattered.

  “I was hoping that you could find me a room here for a night or two,” she said.

  “A room?” he echoed vaguely.

  “Yes, you do have rooms, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” he replied quickly. “A room. Yes, you would like a room.”

  He was afraid that he sounded like an idiot. The air was singing in his ears.

  “I want somewhere quiet and comfortable,” she told him. “Oh, please say you have a room available for me.”

  “Of course,” he answered, pulling himself together with an effort. “It will be delightful to have you. Are you alone or do you have a companion?”

  “I am alone,” she responded sharply.

  Then in a different tone of voice she added,

  “As a matter of fact, I do not want anyone to know where I am. So would you be kind enough not to ask my name? If you can find me a room, I can merely be referred to as number One, Two or Three, whichever it is. Then no one need know who I am.”

  There was a pause. John was rather taken aback. At last he said,

  “I hope, although it may seem rude, that you are not running away from the police?”

  The young lady laughed.

  “No, it’s not as bad as that,” she said. “I am only running from someone I dislike, and I have no wish to be found.”

  “I don’t really think that calling you One, Two or Three would work very well.”

  “Then perhaps I could be Miss Smith or some name like that.”

  “Very well. Miss Smith,” John agreed.

  “Nobody must know that I am here,” she confided urgently. “Truly, I have done nothing wrong. I only want a quiet place to hide. I had hoped that Mr. Dale – but they say he’s not here.”

  “The older Mr. Dale died a few months back. His son now owns the hotel and I work for him. Did you know Mr. Dale well?”

  “No, no – I met him only once – I doesn’t matter –”

  She seemed distracted and frightened.

  “I just want a place to hide,” she repeated.

  “I can certainly provide you with that,” John promised.

  ‘It must be a man,’ he thought. ‘A girl as lovely as this must be pursued by many men. Perhaps she was married. She wore no wedding ring, but then, if she hated her husband, she might have removed it.’

  “As you are in hiding, I think you would be wise to sit at a table in the far corner of the dining room,” John suggested. “From there you can see everyone entering the room before they see you.”

  “That is a very good idea,” the young lady agreed. “Thank you. And can I have a bedroom overlooking the sea?”

  John thought to himself she certainly knew what she wanted.

  Then he wondered again what trouble she might be in. She was obviously a lady and well born.

  “I will fetch the housekeeper and she will show you the rooms that are available,” he said.

  “Can I wait behind your desk?” she asked anxiously. “I promise not to look at anything.”

  “But why – ?”

  Then he realised that if anyone came in, she wanted to be able to duck down behind the desk.

  “You may do whatever makes you feel safe,” he said.

  She slipped behind the desk, taking a look out of the window as she did so.

  John slipped away, wondering what on earth was happening.

  ‘I wanted a new experience,’ he thought, ‘and this is certainly new. I have only been here an hour and already I have met a woman of mystery. Whatever will the next thing be?’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Cecilia waited while Mrs. Jones was summoned from the kitchen to show her up to her room. She was badly disconcerted and needed a few moments to get her breath back.

  She had counted on finding old Mr. Dale, a man who had once been kind to her and she was sure would have remembered her. But now he was dead and his son was not here. There was only the young man she had met downstairs and he was the manager of the Paradise Hotel.

  She had to admit that he was pleasant and helpful. He had allowed her to remain, despite her suspicious lack of a maid. All was not yet lost.

  He was good-looking too, she reflected – tall and upright, with the air of a soldier rather than an hotelier. And his face was so handsome that he might well have been the Knight in shining armour she had once dreamed of meeting.

  ‘But, of course, if I had, Papa would have sent him away because he doesn’t have a title,’ she thought. ‘He would not be impressed by his warm voice and twinkling eyes. And perhaps I shouldn’t be, either. I have to think only of my escape. I cannot let myself be distracted, even by the most handsome man I have ever seen.’

  Upstairs she studied the room that Mrs. Jones was showing her, and liked it. It overlooked the sea and the sight of the sun dancing on the water made her feel more cheerful.

  After Cecilia had walked downstairs, she informed the handsome young hotel manager that she would like to take the room for a week.

  “It’s room No. 7, sir,” Mrs. Jones added.

  “I will write it in the book,” John said. “Miss Smith, I am glad you have found something that suits you. I do hope you will be happy here.”

  “I know I will be,” she enthused fervently. “Thank you, thank you for being so kind and understanding. I will go up now and unpack. Then I am going to rest for a while, as I have been awake all night.”

  She could sense their surprise that a young lady so elegantly dressed should be doing her own unpacking.

  “Will your maid be following soon, miss?” Mrs. Jones asked.

  “My maid?” Cecilia echoed, thinking quickly. “No – er – I had to leave her behind – that is, she has a sick aunt and had to visit her.”

  “That will be all, thank you, Mrs. Jones,” John said hurriedly.

  The older woman gave him a strange look and departed for the kitchen.

  “We should have thought of that,” John said. “Questions are bound to be asked. Do you wish me to arrange for one of our maids to help you?”

  “Oh, no, thank you, but the fewer people who see me the better,” Cecilia informed him quickly. “But how nice of you to think of ways to help me. I will try not to cause you any trouble.”

  “I am delighted to do all I can for you,” John replied with a little bow.

  “I will go now and stay out of sight.”

  He watched as she returned upstairs and it was only then that he realised that his words were the truth. There was something about her that seemed to draw him and make him want to defend and protect her.

  He wondered if he could ask her to explain to him what was frightening her.

  Then he told himself it was not his business to ask questions which she would not want to answer. He sat down again at his desk and smiled ruefully.

  ‘We live and learn,’ he said to himself. ‘I suppose sooner or later she will tell me what this is all about.’

  Then he sighed.

  ‘She is certainly one of the loveliest girls I have seen for a long time,’ he mused. ‘And one of the most intriguing. Now, how do I enter her booking?’

  He opened various ledgers, trying to make head or tail of their mysteries.

  “May I ask just what you think you are doing?” came an indignant voice from the door.

  He looked up to see another young woman standing there. She was about the same age as Miss Smith, but that was all they had in common. This one had a plain face and sandy hair, drawn back severely against her forehead.

  “Nobody is allowed to look at those books,” she said furiously, advan
cing into the room. “They are strictly confidential.”

  “I am glad to hear it, or our customers would have something to complain about,” John said.

  “Our customers?”

  “You must be Miss Campbell. At least, I hope you are.”

  “You are correct. I am she,” she announced in a voice that John afterwards described as being like the crack of doom.

  “Ah,” he said, rising with relief. “I am John Milton, whom Robert has engaged as his manager. He told me about you. He said you know everything about how this establishment works and will be able to explain all the books.”

  “Certainly,” she replied in a brisk tone. “Although my opinion is that it would be better if you left the books entirely to me.”

  “But isn’t that what I am supposed to be here for?” he asked.

  She eyed him ironically.

  “Very well,” she said. “I will explain everything to you and you can take over at once.”

  Something about the way she spoke struck him as ominous.

  “We have a new guest in No. 7,” he explained, “and I was trying to find out where to make the correct entry.”

  “Here,” Miss Campbell said, pulling out a ledger he had not noticed before. “This column is for the date, this one for the room number. Here is where you enter the name and home address.”

  She sat down with the ledger open before her and a pen in her hand.

  “Name?” she enquired.

  “Miss Smith.”

  She looked at him quizzically.

  “Her first name?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Where does she come from?”

  “I didn’t ask that either.”

  “I see,” she said knowingly.

  “What does that mean?”

  “She cannot stay here. This is a respectable hotel.”

  “And she is a respectable young lady,” John retorted crossly.

  “She is called Miss Smith and she comes from nowhere,” Miss Campbell asserted sceptically. “Sir, let me tell you something. There are a thousand Miss Smiths with no addresses swarming all over decent hotels and wise managers get rid of them quickly.”

  John was suddenly very angry.

  “Miss Campbell, if you are suggesting what I think you are, the notion is monstrous and I require you to say no more.”

  She gave him a shrewd look.

  “She must be very pretty,” she observed ironically.

  “I resent that suggestion.”

  “You mean she’s not pretty?”

  “I mean that I will not be interrogated by my staff,” he said, feeling harassed.

  “In that case,” she said coolly, “let us get back to work.”

  She returned to the books and took him through them with an assurance that soon made him realise that he was at a hopeless disadvantage. As a soldier he had been known for his logical and organised mind, but as a hotel keeper he was no match for this martinet.

  “Yes,” he said at last. “Well, perhaps if I leave matters in your hands for a while –”

  “That would be advisable,” she said in an unyielding voice. “I see people beginning to arrive for lunch.”

  “Then I will get out of your way,” he said hastily.

  He could see that she was right. People had started coming into the hotel, almost as though someone had waved a magic wand.

  By one o’clock the dining room was almost full, Mrs. Jones was very busy in the kitchen, and a pretty waitress in white cap and apron was going round the tables.

  As John stood at the dining room door, watching with satisfaction, a wistful voice beside him said,

  “That’s a sight for sore eyes.”

  It was Frank, regarding one of the waitresses with yearning.

  “Is she the one you mentioned earlier?” John asked, with a grin.

  “No, that was the kitchen maid. This is a different girl. Sir, we have really come to the right place.”

  “Just keep your mind on your job,” John ordered. “So that they can keep their minds on their jobs.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir.”

  At that moment the pretty waitress glanced up and saw Frank, and the shameless wink he offered her. A knowing smile spread over her face.

  “Try not to get us both thrown out,” John told his valet.

  “We can’t be, sir. You are in charge.”

  “Am I?” he asked grimly.

  “You’re the master here, sir, the one who must be obeyed, the one before whom we all bow down low.”

  “Shut up,” John told him firmly. He was in no mood for Frank’s wit, although on other occasions he would have found it enjoyable.

  “Yes, sir,” Frank said, suppressing a smile. “Mind you, I don’t envy you having to cope with the dragon.”

  It would have been superfluous to ask who the dragon was.

  “How do you know?” John asked.

  “I happened to walk past your office.”

  “Then how can you talk that nonsense about everyone bowing down before me, I cannot imagine. That lady would not bow down before a Russian cavalry charge.”

  “Yes, she was really flattening you, wasn’t she, sir?”

  “She was not flattening me, Frank,” John said with as much dignity as he could muster. “She was merely instructing me in the fine art of hotel keeping.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “She was also flattening me,” John admitted.

  Frank grinned.

  “Later I am going to turn her loose on you.”

  Frank’s grin faded.

  Feeling slightly better, John returned to his office and studied the books, trying to make sense of what Miss Campbell had told him. She had developed methods that were as efficient as they were complex, and an hour’s hard work merely served to convince him of the wisdom of leaving the paperwork to her.

  More customers arrived. Three of them took rooms in the hotel intending to stay for at least a week. John found that talking to them was most interesting and quite different from anything he had ever experienced. Their mood was always jolly and he found himself being infected by it.

  At last he found himself alone, so he decided it would be pleasant to find his way down to the beach. It was a brilliant day and as soon as he stepped out of the hotel he felt the hot sun on his face.

  It was a wonderful sensation, peaceful and tranquil. In fact he suddenly felt more like himself than at any time since returning from the Crimea.

  The light seemed to flash and dance on the water as he descended the steps, so that at times he needed to shield his eyes against its radiance. The beach was full of holiday makers, all intent on enjoying the pleasures to be found by the sea.

  Lined up at the water’s edge were the bathing machines he had noticed earlier. They were huts mounted on wheels. At each end was a door, a flight of steps and harnessing for a horse.

  A man or woman entered from the landward side, dressed in everyday clothes and changed inside into a bathing costume. While this was happening, a horse would draw the cabin into the sea, so that the water rose up almost as far as the doors. Then the attendant detached the horse and led it back up the beach.

  The bather would then descend a little flight of steps into the water, submerging quickly so that his or her state of comparative undress was seen by as few people as possible. In this way modesty was protected.

  When the dip was over the proceedings were reversed. The horse would be attached to the other end of the hut to draw it out of the water and the bather, now once more properly attired, could emerge onto dry land.

  That, at any rate, was the theory. But John could see more than one young lady only too happy to flaunt her pretty bathing dress with its short skirt and long legs that came down to her calves, actually exposing her ankles.

  The men wore skin tight bathing suits that were even more revealing, with legs that barely reached down as far as their knees, leaving their feet and calves bare. It was the
same with the upper part of the suit, which was little more than a vest, revealing bare arms and shoulders. In this way the wearer’s manly charms (if he had any) were made manifest to any interested onlookers.

  Of course, these costumes were for wearing in the water. Once on dry land bathers were expected to cover themselves modestly with some kind of robe. But just as the girls were not averse to displaying their pretty shapes in a manner that would have been considered immodest at any other time, so the men also could not resist showing off.

  They raced up and down the beach, leaping into the air with yells of glee and occasionally looking over their shoulders to make sure they were being studied by admiring females.

  John began to feel definitely overdressed. He wanted to toss aside his confining clothes and run with the sun and wind on his skin. He wanted freedom.

  He moved along the beach until he reached the steps that led up to the esplanade. At the top he found himself facing a parade of shops, all dedicated to those who wanted to enjoy life in the sun.

  He saw an emporium selling parasols, huge sunshades and beach toys. Next door was a shop full of bathing costumes. There was one male costume and several female. The window was crowded with painted figures, attired in frilly confections, decorated with ribbons and rosebuds. On their heads they wore dainty lace caps, also decorated with ribbons.

  John stood gazing at one of these costumes, an enchanting creation in blue, the exact blue of Miss Smith’s eyes, he realised. He became aware of a fierce desire to see her wearing it.

  It occurred to him that if he wished to bathe he would need a costume. He moved discreetly into the shop and emerged a few minutes later carrying a parcel under his arm. To his own annoyance he could not resist glancing up and down the street in what he was sure was a furtive fashion.

  But nobody seemed to be taking any notice of him and he made his escape unnoticed.

  He returned to the beach and climbed the steps that led to the Paradise Hotel. Half way up he heard a delighted chuckle above his head and looked up to see the enchanting Miss Smith laughing down at him.